


Tuesday

by ej_snwsm



Series: Lets just Play Pretend [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deja Vu, M/M, Magicians, magic?, mystery spot au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:00:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ej_snwsm/pseuds/ej_snwsm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Mystery Spot AU. Sam's been having a strange day, and he can't shake the feeling that he's done it all before. Sabriel, mostly. Some mentions of Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam

_Heat of the moment  
Heat of the moment_  
  
"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Sam opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep away and yawning. Dean was sitting on the adjacent bed, already fully dressed and tightening the laces on his shoes.  
  
“Dude, Asia?  
  
"You love this song and you know it.”  
  
Sam listened to a few more lines on the radio before reaching over to turn it off, ignoring Dean's protests. 

 

Sam turned to his brother with surprise when his complaints quickly faded into compliance. Usually Dean would bicker with Sammy over his use of the radio. It was a guaranteed way to start an argument. 

 

He shrugged it off. Maybe Dean just wasn't in the mood.  
  
The subtle buzz that filled the room was comfortable, the shared silence of two people who had been travelling together for far too long to have awkward morning moments.  
  
Sam shook out his sleep stiffened limbs as he pushed the sheets off his legs and stood up. He was dizzy for a second, looking down at the ground which seemed just a bit too far away. Had he always been this tall? He pushed the feeling aside.  
  
Sam watched as Dean went through his morning bathroom routine. It was the same everyday, and Sam was sure as hell getting bored of these lookalike motel rooms with their small bathrooms and shared sleeping areas. It's not that he didn't like sharing the space with Dean, it was just that there wasn't much space to share.  
  
Mornings were pretty easy. Without coffee Dean was openly himself, unabashedly so. There was nothing hidden in the way he would offer tiny smiles when he caught Sam looking at him like he was from another planet. No defensiveness. Sam had long ago gotten used to mornings with his brother, but he never really got used to the side of his brother that they revealed.  
  
As soon as Dean was done rinsing his mouth out (and checking himself out in the mirror), he relinquished the sink to Sam, who folded his tall frame into the tiny space in front of it. While he brushed his teeth and attempted to comb back his hair, Sam could hear Dean going through their bags, the ones they never really bothered to truly unpack, checking and, it would seem, rechecking until he was sure everything was in order. Sam had offered to do it himself, but his control freak of a brother had refused to even let him near them.  
  
"Afraid I'll find your stash of hair products?" Sam had joked. "I know it can't be your collection of Busty Asian Beauties, you keep that under your seat in the car."  
  
Dean had just shrugged and gone about the packing.  
  
By the time Sam had finished getting dressed, Dean was clutching dramatically at his stomach, swearing that it was making angry sounds that Sam couldn't hear, simultaneously moaning coffee repeatedly under his breath. But, since Sam too was starting to feel the empty space where perhaps breakfast should be, he hurried the last few buttons and, picking up his bag, followed Dean out the door.  
  
Sam had been to so many towns like this one that they had all started to blend into one, so much so that these supposedly unfamiliar streets struck Sam with a feeling of recognition, as if they followed a map that he had long since committed to memory. Dean lead them through the streets, and perhaps he felt just as Sam did, because he seemed to have a specific destination in mind.  
  
"Dean."  
  
"Yeah?" Dean dragged his attention away from the waiting pie and turned to see what Sam was looking at. Sam nodded towards the poster that had caught his attention. The colourfully gaudy paper had caught his eye, peering out from behind the requisite small town notices that covered the bulletin board.  
  
"Do you remember when we were little and you bought me that magic kit, with the crappy plastic wand and everything?"  
  
"Yes, of course I remember you being a class A nerd Sammy. What's with the trip down memory lane?”  
  
Sam was too busy reading the poster to pay any attention to his brother's banter. It didn't take long for Dean to catch on.  
  
"Wait, you wanna go? To a crappy magic show? On our last day in town. Seriously?" Disbelief coloured Dean's words and when Sam looked at his face he could see it there is his features.  
  
"Sure. Why not, right?" Sam hunched his shoulders up to his ears, considered bringing out the puppy dog eyes, but a voice in the back of his head told him that something about Dean's surprise was off. He guessed that the idea actually appealed to Dean more that he was letting on, and the pretence of arguing was going to be enough to extract the favour he wanted.  
  
"Look, I know that you think it's lame, but it could be good. You might actually enjoy yourself. Stop worrying so much about...you know, and just...have fun?" Sam saw the confirmation of his theory in the ease with which Dean was convinced and offered his assent. Usually it would take a week and a truckload of conditions to get his stubborn brother to agree to something like this, but today it seemed they were going to the magic show.  
  
Sam scribbled down the address from the bottom of the poster on the back of his hand, over the top of the now indecipherable scribble of past messages he had since forgotten. He looked over the poster once more as Dean walked on still grumbling weak arguments, feeling his excitement growing. It had been years since he had been obsessed with magic and magicians but he had never forgotten the thrill of seeing something that he couldn't explain even if he know the solution was there somewhere, hidden in plain sight.  
  
Sam's lengthy gait caught up to Dean in no time.  
  
When his brother stopped abruptly Sam nearly ran into him. Unlike most of the time, when Sam would take careful notice of his surroundings, he had been day-dreaming, trusting his brother to do what he did best and find them food. Sam's mind, usually anxiously focused, had been revisiting with a fond nostalgia a time in his childhood when he had still believed in that benevolent power that a magician holds over his audience, the ability to distort and enthral and, most of all, to strip them of their reality.  
  
Stumbling over the shorter frame of his older brother had brought him, almost literally, back to earth.  
  
Sam looked up at the neon sign of the diner Dean had stopped in front of. With a flickering candescence that Sam suspected was only half on purpose, it read _Mystery Spot Cafe_.  
  
The neon sign didn't do much in the light of the day, pale light growing fainter as the few residual shadows of the morning disappeared into the bright light of day.  
  
Strange name, Sam mused, thinking that it sounded slightly familiar.  
  
Beside him Dean was lost in a day-dream of his own, almost salivating at the thought of a hot breakfast. Probably pie too.  
  
As he followed Dean inside the door (after watching Dean try to push the door labelled _pull_ , and then in a spectacularly bad display of good sense, pull the conjugate door labelled _push)_ Sam looked around him in astonishment.  
  
He immediately realised why the name had struck him as familiar. He had read an article about a mystery spot in Kansas once. Someone had disappeared while visiting it, never to be seen again. When he had come across the strange term, having never heard of a 'mystery spot' before, he was struck by curiosity and had googled it. Amongst the thousands of results that turned up, Sam had found plenty of videos that claimed to debunk the 'mystery' of various mystery spots around the country. He had even watched a few of them.  
  
The interior design of the cafe had that same 'out of this world' look going that Sam had seen online. The floor was a wonky, black and white, chequered pattern, randomly interspersed with lines of various colours. Two of the walls continued the trend, creating an optical illusion of straight and crooked lines that Sam didn't really want too look at for too long.  
  
Of the other walls, one was blood red, clashing horribly with the apple green leather of the booth seats, and the other so dark a blue that it was almost black. From where he stood at the entrance, Sam could see that this wall, too, had a faint pattern, but he couldn't quite make it out.  
  
The peculiar decorating didn't end with the paint job. Random objects jutted out of the wall, half implanted into the ceiling and even the floor, so that Sam had to watch where he was stepping to avoid tripping over what appeared to be half a bird cage, painted bright pink, that seemed to be growing out of the ground.  
  
One of the booths, bright orange instead of green like the others, was upside down halfway up the wall. It was as though a mad and eccentric artist's brain had thrown up all of it's ideas and then mixed in a little more crazy, with merely a dash of impossible. Sam wasn't sure if he liked it or not.  
  
The place was not a mystery spot in the literal sense. Sam guessed that there was one nearby and the cafe was a way of boosting the tourism, since it seemed that the laws of nature still applied. The place was crowded though, or perhaps it was merely the sheer number of unusual sculptures that took up floor space, most of them moving, some of them effusing odd and unpleasant noises, that gave that illusion.  
  
Sam was more than a little shocked at the ease with which Dean navigated the busy cafe and made it into a free booth. Sam slipped into the seat facing him, wondering how his practical, conventional brother was looking so at ease with a purple rubber duck suspended just above his head. Dean didn't look twice at the eclectic furnishings, picking up the menu and hiding his head in the extensive list of specials available.  
  
"Man, this place is strange."  
  
Dean made an unenthusiastic sound of assent from behind the brightly coloured folder. Sam turned his attention to the identical one in front of him, groaning internally at their claim to have 'gravity defying' coffee. How did people come up with oxymoronically unique cliché  like this place?  
  
They ordered, Sam a little too uncomfortable with some of the pun filled descriptions to deviate from just a coffee and a stack of pancakes. He was still trying to get used to his surroundings.  
  
"Dude, what's up with you?"  
  
Dean looked across at him from where he had been habitually eyeing their pretty waitress. There was a glazed, unseeing look in his eyes and Sam wondered just when Dean had stopped truly paying attention to pretty women and employed this charade instead.  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
Dean's non-committal answer didn't deter Sam from his question, actually acting adversely to strengthen his concern for his distant brother.  
  
"Dean, it's like you're not yourself today. First you don't complain about the radio, then you practically jump at the chance to go to a magic show, and now you don't seem to have a problem with sitting in a cafe that looks like it was designed by a pack of deranged five year old. You're really not acting like your self."  
  
Dean's gaze skimmed over their surroundings before it returned to Sam, now more attentive and, Sam thought, slightly apprehensive.  
  
"Sam, I-" He was interrupted by the arrival of their waitress, bearing their breakfast. Dean didn't look away from Sam, didn't alter the gravity of his gaze, until the sauce bottle hit the ground next to him.  
  
Both brothers jumped at the loud sound of glass shattering. The viscous red puddle that seeped around the fragments was an addition that didn't even look out of place on the tiled floor.  
  
As the waitress offered multiple apologies and scraped up the broken glass, Sam wondered what Dean had been about to say. It was unlike his brother to offer such a serious tone and Sam supposed that his explanation was important. He considered asking Dean about it after breakfast, but knew that after coffee and food Dean would be more guarded.  
  
He pushed the concern aside. Dean was on occasion unpredictable, but if there was something wrong, Sam trusted his brother to deal with it.  
  
Dean was wasting no time tucking into his meal. Sam looked down at the pancakes he had ordered, groaning when he saw that they had infused the syrup with blue food colouring and the batter with rainbow sprinkles. And he had thought that his place couldn't get any weirder.  
  
The brothers ate in companionable silence, Dean practically inhaling his food until the act was far past enjoyment. Sam half expected his brother to choke.  
  
Sam couldn't explain the sudden urge to irritate his brother. Perhaps it was to find some evidence that it truly was his brother that sat before him, not some strange facsimile who looked like Dean, ate like him, but didn't act like him. In this setting his Dean would be uncomfortable, so Sam engaged in an attempt to knock him into unease.  
  
"Have you heard from Bella?"  
  
And there it was. Dean was at once uncomfortable and awkward.  
  
"Bella? No, why do you bring her up?"  
  
"You two were pretty serious."  
  
"Sam, that was ages ago."  
  
"Only a few months."  
  
Dean's face again became unreadable and he seemed to be on the edge again, about to say something important, but this time his retreat was faster.  
  
"I've moved on."  
  
"Oh really? Is that why you're not flirting with everything with two X chromosomes on two legs?"  
  
"Wha-who?"  
  
"Females, Dean."  
  
"Oh."  
  
When Dean didn't offer anything else, Sam didn't push. The conversation wasn't comfortable, for either of them, but it seemed to fall easily into a well worn pattern, and Sam knew instinctively that he was pushing a boundary best left untouched.  
  


*

  
Sam couldn't explain the overwhelming relief that he felt when they exited the cafe. It wasn't so much the gaudy decor, he had unfortunately been in motel rooms designed in much the same way (some even worse), but he still relished the open air of the streets. All through breakfast there had been a thought jumping around in the peripheral of his vision. Sam would mentally turn and hope to catch sight of it, and it wouldn't be there. When he did focus on it as much as he could, it felt like familiarity, like a deep sense of Déjà vu, but something more, not just a flash of recognition, a deep seated belief that he had lived this before. All of it, almost like he was living yesterday again. Even his ease on the streets rang unnatural.  
  
Dean didn't want to return to the motel, so they found a street directory chained to a nearby bus stop, and looked up the theatre for the show. The poster had stated that the show was a matinee, and it was already tending towards midday.  
  
If Dean thought it was odd to find a street directory in such a place, he didn't say anything, Sam supposed that was one of the saner things he'd seen his brother accept so far.  
  
Sam flipped through the pages of the book until he found the right page, running his long index finger across the lines and street names written in tiny print. He glanced up at the nearest street sign, barely noticing that the name came to him a moment before his eyes alighted upon it, and located his position in relation to his destination.  
  
Committing the path to memory, Sam took the lead, Dean following, and soon arrived at the theatre. A few people were heading the same way, a couple and a family of four, and they stopped to line up at the booth selling tickets.  
  
Sam could feel his excitement growing again. The building was old, with a weathered facade beaten by weather exposure and pollution into a faintly grey hue. It spoke of history, betrayed a sense of a past so rich that most of it was long forgotten. There was a plaque near the entrance and Sam wandered off to read it while Dean exchanged some friendly words with the young man who was manning the booth, just out of Sam's earshot. 

 

Tickets and programs in hand, they passed through the entrance. The foyer was just as old fashioned, wine red carpet in stark contrast to the creamy walls and embellished ceiling. Sam wondered whether everything in this town was just a few shades more dramatic than usual. Sam found that he didn’t mind the extra flair, and neither, it seemed, did Dean.

 

At a sound echoing out from somewhere deeper within the building, Dean lead Sam towards the theatre. Finding their seats in the echoing room, Sam opened up the program, checking out the details of the show as Dean fidgeted in the seat next to him. The black and white booklet was worn at the edges and someone had even taken the time to scribble in the margins. Sam couldn't decipher the messy writing, so he turned his attention towards the printed word instead. It gave a brief history of magicians, which Sam skipped over, already knowing most of the names and facts, memories from long ago. Next to him, Dean grew increasingly active, seemingly unable to sit still. Before Sam had reached the end of the booklet, Dean had stood up, murmured something that could have been an explanation and walked away, leaving Sam to his own devices, waiting for the performance to begin. 

 

Putting the program away, Sam turned his attention to the stage. A large, heavy looking curtain bunched up where it ran against the polished wooden floor of the elevated platform. From his position, maybe twenty rows back from the stage, Sam could see the fabrics fold in upon themselves. The minute detail almost promised to keep boredom away, but it crept in slowly as Sam waited either for his brother's return or the start of the show.  

 

Sam sighed loudly, slouching in the seat. The theatre was mostly empty, and the only sounds were the hushed voices of the other audience members and a few muffled sounds from backstage. The quiet weighed on him, pressing him deeper into the fabric of his chair. Sam absently tore at the program. As he waited, boredom truly setting in, he caught sight of a face, peering out of the darkness of the stage wing. Sitting bolt upright again, Sam watched the person who was watching him.  
  
A jolt of electrical impulses ran down his spine. His heart raced and his breathing quickened. And he was having true difficulty blaming it on the unexpected appearance of the spectre. Perhaps it _was_ just the shock of seeing something where he had expected nothing, but his reaction, the way that every fibre of his being was suddenly awake and completely on edge, seemed far too extreme. There was nothing he could do to explain the sensation of heat that coiled itself into the bottom of his stomach and curled there, increasing his discomfort tenfold where he sat.  
  
Sam was too far away to make out many details, especially with the darkness surrounding the figure, but adrenaline had focused his gaze and he could have sworn that the eyes were looking right at him. He could just make out the light brown, almost gold, glowing out from the dark shadows cast across the features. It reminded him of the Cheshire Cat that existed in a world through a looking glass, disembodied eyes full of mischief and glee. But those weren't the only things the expressive eyes betrayed.  
  
While Sam watched the mystery man, eyes locked, he was held still by a strange sensation. His breathing had slowed and a faint blush rose to his cheeks in response to his over reaction. He didn't spend too much time feeling embarrassed, though, already new sensations were flooding his mind. Sam couldn't move, couldn't tear his eyes away, despite his staring having exceeded what would be considered polite, for a fear that the man would disappear if he did. He wondered at it. Why should he care if this ghost disappeared back into the darkness backstage, or into thin air?  
  
Just before the man did disappear, Sam realised where the instinct had come from. It was the need to protect. To wipe away the sadness that he thought he saw reflected in the man's eyes. Sam felt like reaching out across the distance between them, feeling that he could touch the man from where he sat. He stopped himself just before he carried out the motion, aware of how strange it would look, and when he returned his gaze to the shadows, there was nobody there.  
  
Despite the feeling that he _had_ lost something important, the realisation of his irrational fears, Sam couldn't help but wonder if his imagination had been playing a trick on him. Could he have conjured the figure, bored out of his wits as he was, to entertain him in the interim? Part of him laughed at himself for his vivid imagination, the other part hoped that he was wrong. That the man had been real.  
  
Sam was still lost in thought when Dean sat back down. Rather than giving up his illusions, Sam let them come to a natural conclusion before he turned his attention to his brother, mind still full of gold and shadow.  
  
Dean couldn't keep his smile under control, he seemed seconds away from laughing. The joy was infectious. Sam found himself smiling as he queried his brother about it, but Dean just shrugged it off, smiling even harder, until Sam was sure that his cheeks had to hurt. Sam settled on trying to get information out of his brother another, indirect way.  
  
“So, where did you go? You were gone for a long time.”  
  
“Aw, Sammy, did you miss me?”  
  
“Seriously. Where did you go?” Sam repeated.  
  
“Backstage.”  
  
“How did you get backstage?” Sam paused. “ _Why_ did you go backstage?”  
  
“Shhh, Sam, it's about to start.”  
  
Unsatisfied, Sam turned to the stage and saw with surprise that Dean was right. They had noiselessly pulled back the heavy curtains, and now the stage was set with an odd array of magical equipment. Some of the stuff he recognised, the countless packets of cards and the trick tables, but some of the bigger props were completely new to him. Sam studied them with a hunger that overcame his curiosity about his brother's strange behaviour.  
  
A hush came over the few audience members who had still been chatting away. The silence lasted only for a few minutes, until Sam realised that there wasn't any silence at all. A soft, quiet music had begun playing, lightly enough that it wouldn’t be recognised right away. Sam thought that it was probably something classical, but he couldn't quite tell.  
  
Sam's stomach did a funny sort of back flip when the magician walked onto the stage. He didn't have to wait for the familiar eyes to turn and scan the audience before he recognised him as the man who had stood in the shadows.  
  
"Alrighty Ladies and Gents! I am Gabriel, your magician extrodinare for this evening. I hope that you will all enjoy the show." The man stood in the middle of the stage and took an exaggerated bow. His words flowed with the strange intonation of a stage performer. When he straightened up, his features were set into a playful smile, eyes wickedly bright. All traces of anything other than immense glee, perhaps bordering on the impudent, were completely gone.  
  
"A word of warning before we begin." The expressive face went serious. "I'm sure you all know what exactly it is that we do here. At least you know what you think you're here to see." He pointed with lazily grand gestures at random audience members.  
  
Gabriel actually paused as if he expected a reply from the non responsive audience. The hall was mostly empty, sharpening Sam's feeling that Gabriel was addressing him directly when those eyes turned upon him and hovered there.  
  
When no one answered Gabriel took it in his stride. He clapped his hands together in front of him.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry to say that you were mistaken. We do not dabble with mere illusions here. Here, in this room, we seek to tangle with the fabric of reality. I will teach you to believe in what your eyes are telling you, no matter how strange it may be. For these are not mere party tricks and strange talents. In this room, the laws of physics, nature and logic will cease to exist."  
  
Gabriel paused, shuffling with intricate motions through a deck of cards that had not been in his hands a moment before. Sam laughed quietly when he recognised the trick shuffle. For those versed in the magicians ways, the shuffle could be read as a secret message. This man was a truly brave, and very cocky, trickster.  
  
*  
  
The performance was separated into a number of sections, labelled acts one through three in the program and advertised as increasing in 'daring and prowess'. Starting off small, simple card tricks and a few prop displays, Gabriel slowly moved into heavier performances.  
  
As soon Gabriel called upon an audience member to take part, Sam slunk back into his seat, ignoring his urge to fling his hand into the air like almost every other person mesmerised by the small man.  
  
Sam had been watching the show closely, but all of the mundane, almost routine, tricks were not enough to hold his attention. Most of them he remembered, knowing the steps behind them, exactly where to look while the magician was pointing elsewhere. Though the feeling that he could see what the rest of the audience was missing was slightly intoxicating, almost like a having a super power, he could feel his mind slipping. More and more often as the first act progressed, he would find his mind focusing on other details, like the small hands that never ceased moving, or the way that laughter lines crinkled as the man smiled. When he focused on the lips, instructing and manipulating the audience, he could feel his heart rate increase. But it was when those eyes flickered and landed on his, remaining there as they had done before the show, that Sam could feel the floor crack under him as his stomach dropped and he plummeted into free fall.  
  
Sam had been attracted to guys before. Despite the strict 'masculinity' of his home life, with his militant father and his sycophantic brother, he had never found it to be an issue. He had even been in a stable relationship with a guy in college. But that hadn't lasted. Dean had showed up at the university and practically demanded that Sam come with him and help him 'run the family business'. Sam didn't really mind, the job was what he was good at. He didn't belong in a stuffy lecture hall, arranging his lanky, tall frame into the confining seats, taking indecipherable notes to be barely pored over later. He left that life behind, Jesse too, and he had looked back so many god damn times that he had a permanent crick in his neck. But regret was a fleeting friend.  
  
He had never told Dean about his relationship, or about his bisexuality. Dean had a habit of flying into fits of passionate heterosexuality the few times he and Sam had been mistaken for a couple, which, thankfully, was not even often. Sam didn't see the point in subjecting his slightly intolerant brother, and travelling companion, to news that he just didn't want to hear. It didn't really matter anyway. 

 

They had enough trouble not getting on each other's nerves and the prank wars certainly didn't help. Sam didn't want to give Dean any more ammunition.  
  
But what he was feeling now, this sudden rush of sensation, was something that Sam hadn't ever felt before. He felt like he knew Gabriel, and the familiarity simultaneously soothed and scared him. He found the physical presence to be calming, as if he had been waiting for it for a long time, not realising just how tense he had been until he stepped into the same room as this small man and suddenly he could breath easy.  
  
Truth be told, breathing wasn't exactly coming easy at the moment. Sam was taken by the way the single figure filled up the stage. His tiny (by comparison, Sam supposed) frame held an energy that flowed out of him, into the corners of the hall, making the air feel heavy and thick. It was as if electricity flowed through it, coursing around Sam, setting him on edge. The sensation had grown exponentially as Sam watched Gabriel on the stage, no longer paying attention to the cards in his hands, or the laughs and gasps of the audience.   

 

When the stage lights hit the figure and his shadow was cast onto the background, it seemed to take up all of his vision. When Gabriel's laughter filled the room, it was all that Sam could hear. He forgot about his brother sitting next to him. He forgot about the world. 

 

It was a feeling that Sam needed to run away from. He was being ridiculous. What was he, twelve? Believing in love at first sight? Never mind that he hadn't spoken a word to the man. Never mind that, judging by the loaded look he had received pre-show, the guy had a fair bit of baggage that, someday, someone would have to deal with. Never mind that he and his brother were leaving town tomorrow. 

 

So Sam was not going to put his hand up. He wanted to, but at the same time he was embarrassed about how he was reacting to just sitting in the same hall as this guy. He didn't want to make a fool of himself, especially in front of his brother. 

 

So Sam averted his eyes at the request for volunteers. He shifted lower in his seat, hoping that those eyes were not on him, even though he could almost feel their path grazing his skin. He sighed in relief as the magician called out to an audience member, hearing the disappointed noises that spoke of a decision having been made.  

 

“Now, now. Everyone will get a turn. Please, handsome young stranger, don't leave me waiting.”

 

Sam looked up to see all eyes directed at him. He cast a shocked look towards Dean, who laughed and started prodding at his shoulder, poking him out of his seat. 

 

“But I didn't-”

 

“I know. I did it for you.” Dean cut him off. “If I'm sitting through this, I'm getting my money's worth.” Dean's face split a wicked grin and Sam, already out of his seat and in the aisle, could see no way to get out of walking up to the stage. 

 

He approached the ramp that allowed access to the stage, Gabriel calling of a round of applause for the brave young man who would be his first victim. 

 

His heart was pounding in his chest as Gabriel arranged him to face the audience and gave him a sweeping look, the appreciation for his use in the trick laced with some thing else. Or perhaps that was Sam's imagination. He tried to smile out into the bright lights, glaring at where the thought his brother should be sitting.

 

“Okay sir, now that you're actually _on_ stage,” Gabriel got Sam's attention by grabbing his elbow and pulling him further into the maze of discarded equipment. “Have we ever met before?” Gabriel did a weird twitchy thing with his eyebrows. 

 

Up close, though Sam wasn't about to admit it, the guy was adorably handsome. His light brown hair was just long enough to be considered shaggy, dampness causing bits of it to stick to his forehead. He didn't let it occupy him though, barely even pausing to brush it out of his eyes as he continued moving about the floor. Everything about the man's face distracted Sam. The curve of his nose in profile. The slight furrow of concentration in his brow. Sam licked his own lips when he found his gaze fall to Gabriel's. The magician was staring at him expectantly, an eyebrow still cocked in apparent amusement. 

 

This was exactly what Sam had been afraid of. 

 

“Have we...?” Sam stammered.

 

“Met before? Come on big guy, you know the drill, same as in the movies. Do you know me? Did we meet before this show? Could I have given you instructions on how this trick is to be performed? We need to prove that you are really just a random audience member and not in cahoots with the magician. So, have we met before?” 

 

Sam looked closely at Gabriel. He knew that no was the requisite answer, but he couldn't shake that familiarity that struck him every time he looked at the man. He was almost, mostly, sure that they had never met before, so he pushed the feeling away, smiling shyly at the expectant magician. 

 

“No. We haven't met before.” 

 

Gabriel turned back to the audience, arms wide open. 

 

“He does not know me!” Some people cheered. Gabriel had the whole audience, little that there was, eating out of his hand. 

 

“So, what's your name-No wait! Don't tell me!” Gabriel reached into his pocket and produced a pack of cards. The seal was unbroken, so Gabriel slid a dexterous finger through the plastic covering and poured to cards out into his hand. He fanned them in front of Sam. 

 

“Pick. A. Card.”

 

Sam reached out with unsteady fingers and picked a card. He turned it over, making sure Gabriel couldn't see it. 

 

“There is a pen on that table there. Will you write down you full name on the card please. There's no point me telling you to show the audience, but you may as well flash them anyway, so that they feel involved.”

 

Sam turned the card briefly towards the awed faces of the audience after writing his name. 

 

“Now return it to the deck.”

 

Once it was returned to the deck, Gabriel shuffled it, put it back in the box and put the box in the back pocket of his tight jeans. Sam faltered. He didn't recognise this illusion.

 

"Alrighty," Gabriel clasped his hands together as he faced Sam. "Now, big guy, you can tell me your name."

 

"Sam Winchester."

 

"Samuel?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Wiiiiiiiinchester?" Gabriel drew out his surname, turning it into a question.

 

"Yes." Sam affirmed.

 

"Well Sammy, you wrote your name on a playing card from the deck that is currently in my back pocket? Am I correct?"

 

Sam considered asking the magician not to call him Sammy. 

 

Only his brother and his father called him Sammy. 

 

But he found that he liked the way it sat on the man's tongue.

 

"Yep."

 

"You're sure?"

 

Sam didn't bother answering. Typical crowd pleasing distractions. Sam kept his eye on the man's movements, eagerly seeking out the tells that would give the trick away.

 

"Will the person sitting in row...what's your favourite number Sammy?"

 

"Six."

 

"Row six, seat..." Gabriel turned to Sam, not bothering to voice his request. As Sam answered (Um...eight!) he could feel his excitement growing. He, like the rest of the audience, had no idea what was about to happen, following the flow of false clues until the magic was revealed.

 

"Row six, seat eight, would you please check under your seat. You might find something there."

 

There was a sudden rustling as people turned in their seats. The head of the person sitting in row six seat eight disappeared momentarily, reappearance accompanied by a shriek of surprise and the white flash of paper.

 

"What do you have there?"

 

Almost everyone tried to answer simultaneously.

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?"

 

"An envelope." The woman holding it in her hands was the only one to reply this time.

 

"An envelope. Okay. I can work with that. Will you please open the envelope?"

 

Silence reigned as the woman went about the task. When the envelope was finally open and it's contents freed, everyone craned their necks to see what it had held. The woman nearly dropped the card in shock when it fell into her hand.

 

"Well?" Gabriel prompted.

 

"It's a playing card."

 

"And what does it say?"

 

She turned it over, growing agitated and excited as she read out the name written on the card.

 

"Samuel Winchester."

 

Applause, catcalls, cheers. Sam was stunned. He was sure that the card was still stowed away in the magician's back pockets. He could still see the outline of the box when Gabriel turned to accept praise from the audience. The cheering continued and the woman made her way up to the stage, depositing the card in Sam's hands and returning to he seat. Sam looked down, to see that it was indeed his card. Not only was it the same suit, same number, same deck, but there was his name, scrawled in black ink. His handwriting.

 

The crowd continued to cheer as Gabriel promised them more to come, announcing the end of act one. As he called for a round of applause for his volunteer, he put his hand against Sam's back. Amidst the confusion, the adrenaline and the pleasure, Sam couldn't help but lean back into the touch, both familiar and completely new.

 

As Sam went to leave the stage, to retake his seat, stage lights dimming and over head lights bringing the audience out of the darkness, Gabriel leaned in. His breath ghosted over Sam's skin as he whispered words that only he could hear. "Don't worry Sammy, it's just a trick. Oh and you can call me Gabe."

 

*

 

Act two flew past, Sam no longer squirming uncomfortably in his seat. He found that his distraction was waning, or perhaps he was just getting used to it, because his attraction to the magician was no longer stopping him from focusing on the tricks. If anything it began to heighten the experience. Sam kinda got over his initial embarrassment. Being on the stage had, if anything, helped in that respect. It wasn't just magic either, Gabriel (Gabe) set up a number of escapes that left every audience member on the edge of their seat. Although there was only one person on stage for the whole time, it all seemed fast paced and packed.

 

Sam cheered with the rest of the crowd, laughing along with Gabriel and the people he was quickly enchanting. Even Dean was shouting out occasionally, laughing and yelling. Sam was glad to see his brother so involved, not in his head. Dean didn’t seem to be much of a thinker, but he was definitely a catastrophiser. Sam wouldn’t go as far as to call him a drama queen, but he had his moments. And things in their lives hadn’t been exactly easy after their father’s death. Sam knew that Dean blamed himself for that, and for almost everything. He was still trying to look after Sam, like he had when they were younger.

 

Dean claimed to enjoy only a few, self destructive things. Drinking, womanising, teasing and tormenting his brother (definitely the most dangerous of the habits), amongst the few. But he didn’t truly enjoy any of those things. 

 

Not really. 

 

He tried to, Sam knew that he did, but it was nothing. In reality there was nothing there, and whatever it was that Dean was reaching for, he wouldn’t find it at the bottom of a whiskey glass or a pile of discarded clothes.

 

Dean _was_ happy. In moments. In snippets. Sam tried to bring them about, and then tried to draw them out, but often Dean would resist. And then deny.

 

Sam looked at his brother, and saw that he was happy.

 

But that didn’t get him off the hook.

 

Although Sam had enjoyed being on stage, enjoyed the proximity to someone he was physically attracted to in that strange way that even embarrassment cannot deny, he was still gonna get Dean back. A few times he had been tempted on volunteering Dean for participation, but he was holding on to his revenge card until something better, something bigger presented itself. Sam wasn't content just to subject Dean to the same punishment he had endured for his brother's amusement.

 

Luckily for Sam, Gabriel decided that it was time to introduce his assistant.

 

With a particularly wicked smile Gabriel addressed his audience.

 

“I’m feeling a little lonely, friends.”

 

A few hands flew up into the air, already eager. Gabriel ignored them, glancing into the wing, smile almost splitting his face.

 

“So, I think it’s about time to bring out my lovely assistant. Before I bring out the splendid Cassie...” 

 

Sam’s attention was abruptly stolen from the stage by his brother. In the seat next to him, Dean had suddenly stiffened, going completely still. His eyes were fixated on the stage, equal parts horror, confusion and intrigue.

 

The reaction set Sam instantly on edge. Sam scanned the stage, looking for whatever it was that had captured his brother’s attention and shaken him out of his composure.

 

Gabriel was still standing in the centre, waving his arms to beckon at someone just out of sight. There was no one else on the stage, no sign that something was about to come crashing down or that Gabriel was going to trip over his props. Nothing to warrant the tenseness emanating from the seat next to him.

 

Gabriel apparently grew fed up with the charade of gentle persuasion. He began making violent threatening motions with his hands.

 

“Castiel, you get out here now, or so help me I will-”

 

The audience instinctively cheered as the figure stalked onto the stage. 

 

And then fell silent.

 

The whole room echoed with the faint music that had been hidden under the cheers and gasps. Unlike other magic shows that Sam remembered, Gabriel didn't rely heavily on aural cues to enhance his performance.

 

The only other sound, Gabriel was now hunched over in silent laughter, was the steady click of high heels against the solid wooden stage. Sam’s eyes swept quickly over the figure, just as taken aback as everyone else.

 

His eyes took in the fishnet stockings and the short skirt.

 

Wandered over the arms crossed awkwardly over the decidedly masculine chest.

 

Ended up at the glowering face, piercing blue eyes narrowed at Gabriel, who was almost on his knees with silent giggles.

 

Looked back at his brother, whose jaw looked like it was almost disjointed, judging by the angle from which it was hanging.

 

Sam didn’t quite understand what was going on, but he mentally thanked Gabriel for presenting him with such a wonderful opportunity.

 

The room remained mostly silent until Gabriel regained his ability to stand without being reduced to his knees by the sight of his assistant.

 

“Perhaps I owe you guys an explanation.” Gabriel turned back to the confused faces of his spectators, almost falling back into the uncontrollable hysterics. “My real assistant fell sick yesterday afternoon, horrible mess, all over the stage, and so I had to do what I had to do to make sure that the show would go on. This,” A grand gesture at his new assistant, “Is my cousin Castiel. He volunteered-“

 

“I did not volunteer Gabriel, you told me-“

 

Gabriel cut him off forcefully. “He _volunteered_ to take over the role while Harriet is regrettably absent. Unfortunately I blew our budget on some awesome stuff, you'll see that later, so I couldn’t get a new outfit for Castiel, leaving him with this...rather becoming ensemble.”

 

Castiel was still glaring at Gabriel. It seemed to Sam like he was avoiding making eye contact with the audience, and Sam instinctively knew why. Beside him, Dean was trying desperately to disappear into his seat, not getting anywhere, casting panicked glances between the stage and his brother. When he caught his brother's eye, he sat up straight, trying to ignore the stage, shrugging off his discomfort. 

 

“And boy, does he have the legs for it. I told you, Cassie baby, it’d look great.”

 

The wicked grin was back, directed at Sam. Sam held the gaze, knowing what was coming up; knowing that, somehow, Gabriel knew exactly what he was planning and was going to help him accomplish it. 

 

Sam didn’t know exactly what was going on, but if there were two things that Sam was good at, it was doing the best with what was on hand, and pranking his brother. And this was going to be so much better than gluing his hand to a bottle.

 

“Gabriel, I should never have let you talk me into this. This is the worst idea that you have ever come up with, and I believe that I am experiencing something very much like stage fright. I think that you should let me off the stage right now, so I can get out of this ridiculous costume-”

 

Gabriel winked at Sam before breaking eye contact and leaning closer to his cousin. Words must have passed between the two of them, because suddenly Castiel looked as though he was about to faint or to try to run away, and Gabriel wound an arm around his to steady him. Castiel’s eyes quickly glanced into the crowd, finding the seat next to Sam in an instant, almost as if he was guided by a magnet. Sam could hear Dean groan beside him, and caught him trying to burrow further out of sight again.

 

As soon as his eyes fell upon Dean, a change came over Castiel. He seemed to visibly relax, eyes never leaving the squirming form. It was strange for Sam to witness. Under the stony gaze it looked as though the man was having a plethora of epiphanies, his shock obvious. He looked at Dean like he was rainbows and puppies and chocolate all rolled into one shockingly sexy being.

 

It was somewhat nauseating.

 

And Sam was starting to believe more and more in this love at first sight thing.

 

*

 

“We have a special guest in the audience today. Some of you may have heard of him, some of you may not, but he is ah...very famous in the...music industry.” Sam grinned. _Subtle, Gabe_. 

 

“Please Gabriel, don't. I'm begging you.” Castiel's words were low and slightly panicked. 

 

“Will you please welcome to the stage Dean Winchester.”

 

Sam was already laughing as Dean shot up. He looked like he wasn't sure which to approach, the stage, or the exit. Dean made a quick movement towards the latter, but Sam was ready for that, grabbing him and pushing him towards the stage. 

 

Castiel looked as though he was fighting a similar battle, straining against Gabriel's arm.

 

This time Sam got to watch as his brother climbed onto the stage, something inside him feeling like it might break if he didn't leap into a fit of laughter that would leave him rolling on the floor.

 

Sam watched as Dean shuffled up to where Gabriel stood with his captive, cheered on by the waiting crowd. 

 

“So modest! Come along now, there are no points for the stragglers.”

 

Dean couldn't hold a tune to save himself. 

 

“Okay, welcome up to our stage. Cassie, give our visitor a warm welcome.”

 

Castiel continued glaring at his cousin, but Sam could see his gaze soften slightly as he turned to Dean, who was blushing red from the crowd’s attention. 

 

“Welcome.”

 

“That's as warm as he gets?” More glaring. “Okay then, I guess we'll just begin. Jeez, if looks could kill. So, before we get you to sing a song for us Dean-o, maybe you could help us with this next trick?”

 

“Wait Gabriel, you want me to sing?” Dean looked wearily at Gabriel. Sam squirmed in his seat, revelling in his brother's discomfort. 

 

“We'll get to that later. Right. This next trick involves two willing participants, Castiel and Dean, and... well basically you gotta slow dance.”

 

“What? What does that have to do with magic?”

 

Gabriel grinned harder.

 

“I don't know, I think it would be pretty magic.”

 

Anger flared on Dean's face and he made to move towards Gabriel. He violently grabbed at the magician, but Castiel got to him first. Grabbing Dean's arms, he turned him away from Gabriel, towards the edge of the stage. Gabriel was laughing again. Dean wasn't easily deterred, still struggling against Castiel's arms. Castiel must be stronger than he looks, Sam thought. 

 

“Ah, it's just a joke Dean-o.”

 

Some people were still laughing. Others were just watching, not sure what to think of this non-sequitur segment. Sam was just watching, feeling instinctively that this had been taken too far.

 

“Dean.” 

 

Castiel's voice rang out over Gabe's laughter. Dean made one last abortive move before turning to Castiel. Only a look passed between the two of them, no words. The duration of the look began to compound Sam's discomfort. 

 

Dean walked back to his seat, shoulders still tense with anger, and Castiel turned a disapproving eye towards Gabe, who was slowly recovering. When he noticed the silence of the room and confirmed Gabriel's inability to address it, Castiel turned towards the audience himself. The door opened and closed, letting Dean out of the hall as he bypassed his place next to Sam. 

 

“That is the end of act two. Tea and coffee will be available in the foyer during this short interval. After the break Gabriel and I will be back for the final third of this show. Hopefully.”

 

While the lights came back on, Sam navigated his way out of the seat and followed his brother. 

 

*

 

Sam found his brother drinking coffee. He approached with caution. He wasn't ready to take credit for the humiliation that lurked behind Dean's anger. 

 

“So, that was...interesting.” Sam began hesitantly. 

 

“That's one way to put it.” Dean tipped his cup up, and Sam was glad to see that most of his anger was gone. Other people were slowly pouring out of the hall. Some of them looked at Dean with unconstrained amusement, others with confused sympathy. 

 

“Dean, that was-”

 

“I'll be back.” Dean abruptly walked off, and Sam wondered whether he was going backstage again. Maybe someone needed to warn Gabriel. 

 

Sam stood alone by the coffee table for a while, wondering what was going on. Obviously something was happening that Sam wasn't in on, or perhaps it was just continuing to be a very strange day. Sam found that he was unable to fully appreciate Gabriel's warped sense of humour. The last joke was something that _Dean_ would have laughed at, if it hadn't been directed at him. 

 

A group of people hovered behind him, until Sam realised that they were waiting for him to finish with the coffee. He quickly poured himself a cup, muttering unheard apologies, and moved to find a corner of the foyer where he could stand alone. 

 

Sam tried to think about work. Tried to think about the long day of travelling that he and his brother had ahead of them. But he couldn't shake Gabriel out of his head. Sure, Gabriel had definitely proven himself to have a tendency of overstep boundaries, boundaries that Sam had hoped would remain intact while he still had to share a car and a hotel room with his brother, but he also had an endearing way of doing practically everything. And, in a way, what he had done to Dean had been done _for_ Sam. Sam had been asking for it, as he gazed back into those laughing eyes. From his actions, Gabe could have been reading his mind, right up until he took it too far. 

 

Sam was surprised that there were no fireworks. He thought that falling in love always had fireworks. But if this was falling in love then it was all half formed ideas and impossible wishes. It was a pointless hope that Sam could spend even an hour longer in the man's company. It was useless. What was Sam supposed to do with this bottomless pit in his stomach? With the shaking in his legs? They couldn't help him. 

 

But the worse part was the pull. Sam could feel it, somewhere behind his spine, or wrapped around everyone of his nerve endings. It was telling him that there was somewhere else where he needed to be. It felt like a magnet, gently pulling on him, telling him to turn around, to walk back into the hall, to do anything that wasn't standing in this spot doing nothing. It made him feel nauseous. He didn't want to walk away. The thought made him feel even worse. But the truth was, there was nothing for him here. No matter how much he felt could be gained by staying, he didn't know Gabriel. And he never would. What he was feeling was probably confusion. The day had been so long, and full of surprises. His brother was acting strange, maybe it was something they both ate. 

 

If he thought he was in love, with another guy, then he was in love. He wasn't about to deny it. But that didn't mean that he would be in love tomorrow, or the next day, or ten years from now. If he left he would forget, because there was nothing to remember. 

 

He and Dean would get into the Impala tomorrow, and Sam would practice never looking back. 

 

Sam was lost in his thoughts again. He didn't look up until the silence filled his ears, making them ring slightly. Where before there had been quiet conversation and laughs, the hall was filled with nothing and no one. 

 

The door to the performance hall was closed. Sam could hear sounds behind it, the show had already begun. He had a hand already on the door knob before he stopped himself.

 

He should do it now. He was going to have to do it eventually. Just walk away. He could just walk out of the theatre, and stay in the hotel room for the rest of the afternoon. Dean would come and find him, he could say he had a bad headache. Just walk away. He had had a good day. He had memories that would last him while drudging through the mundane of his everyday job. He might want more, but since he had no way of getting it, he had to be content with what he had. A good day.  
  
But his hand wouldn't leave the door. 

 

He may not have tomorrow. It may be pointless to sit and pine over someone from thirty seats away. Okay, it was certainly pointless.  
  
But he still wanted to do it. Wanted. To watch Gabriel, to feel his presence fill the room, and fill that part of Sam that he had never even realised was empty.  
  
He had no reason to stay, but he had no reason to go, either.  
  
*  
  
The final curtains closed on Sam feeling like he had been cheated out of something he had been looking forward too forever. As the heavy red fabric was dragged noiselessly across the wooden stage once more, Sam glanced down at the program in his hand. The performance had been nothing short of spectacular. It had reawakened Sam's love of the occult, a fondness that had merely been prodded into semi-consciousness by the posters. Gabriel was everything that a good magician should be, grandly amiable; humorous, perhaps erring on the side of crude sometimes; and both able and willing to entrance an audience.  
  
If Sam had to criticise, and the hole in his stomach was crying out for him to do so, the only problem with the show had been that it ended. Sam had dreaded the end of the curtains as one dreads the end credits of their favourite show. It's always over too soon.  
  
Gabriel had been mostly well behaved for the third act. That's not to say that he didn't throw out a couple of comments making even Dean blush, but it was kept mostly light and Dean seemed to be out of the line of fire. When he walked back in, Sam half-heartedly scanned Gabriel for signs of bruising, but there weren't any.  
  
The tricks themselves evolved as promised, everybody oohing and aahing as the climax of the show was reached. Gabriel and Castiel took their bows, Gabriel informing the audience that he would be out in the foyer, if anyone wished to "have a chat" about the show.  
  
Sam rose from the seat and preceded his brother out into the foyer. It would be dark outside by now. Sam wasn't exactly sure what time it was, but the show had lasted a few hours, beginning mid afternoon. He turned back to Dean and say his brother clutching at his growling stomach.  
  
"I'm starving. Let's go eat."  
  
Sam hesitated.  
  
"In a minute, alright? I'd, ah... I'd like to talk to Gabriel."  
  
He met Dean's eyes, worried that he would see confusion, or worse horrified understanding, but Dean didn't seem phased by the admission.  
  
"Okay dude, your call. Tell the bastard I said hi. I 'll be outside when your ready."  
  
"What? Not backstage?" Sam mocked, but Dean was already disappearing through the small crowd.  
  
Sam turned to where the crowd was at it's thickest. If Gabriel was anywhere, it would most likely be there, lapping up the attention. Again, Sam was struck by a familiarity, that felt less like judgement and more like understanding. Somehow, he _knew_ Gabriel, he just didn't know how.  
  
Sam caught sight of the magician through the crowd. Mindful of Dean out in the cold, he waited until the throng dissipated slightly until pushing his own way into it.  
  
With some difficulty, Sam managed to reach Gabriel. Reaching out a hand to steady himself against the jostling crowd, Sam grabbed Gabriel's shoulder, causing the man to look up at him.  
  
As he caught sight of Sam, he began grinning around the pen lid caught between his teeth.  
  
"Sammy!" Gabriel snapped the lid back home as he passed it and a program back to someone.  
  
Sam stood by Gabriel until the crowd had thinned even more, and before too long it was only the two of them standing in the middle of the room.  
  
Most people had hurried out into the cold night, eager to get to wherever they were going next. The few that remained were talking jovially in groups, discussing the show and dinner plans.  
  
Sam had seen Gabriel sign his name a dozen times, with a scrawl even messier than his own. He was tempted to ask for an autograph himself, but them Gabriel turned to him, eyeing the program in his hand.  
  
"Please tell me that you will by donating that to the We-don't-need-to-increase-out-printing-budget-by-any-more-do-we-Gabriel-fund? People all seem keen on taking their programs with them, but it just means a whole lot more paper gets wasted on our end. We like to recycle them as much as possible. Good for the environment."  
  
Sam remembered the writing on his own program, and passed it Gabriel, nodding wordlessly. It was discarded onto a nearby table.  
  
"Did you enjoy the show?"   
  
"It was great."  
  
"Don't lie to me Sammy. Come on, I'm a big boy, I can take the truth." Gabriel made a show of squeezing shut his eyes and curling his body inwards as if he expected a physical blow. Sam laughed.  
  
"No, really. I loved it."  
  
Gabriel straightened up, smiling again, but Sam thought he caught sight of that look again, the sense of melancholy that had been in his eyes before the show began.  
  
"What can I help you with, kiddo?”

 

“I just wanted to say that was a really great show.”

 

“Seen a lot of magic Sammy?”

 

“Ah” Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve seen a fair bit. But not in a really long time.”

 

“So, you've seen all the tricks.”

 

“No, definitely not. I have no idea how you did a lot of it. I mean, you should have a stronger warning at the start of the show.”

 

Gabriel grinned at the praise. 

 

“I know it's totally overused, but I'm gonna say it anyway. A great magician never reveals his tricks Sammy.”

 

“I know. But I seriously wish that I could figure out how you did that one when I was on stage. Anyway. Thanks for the show, it was truly great.” Sam was learning to cope with the way his vocabulary was reduced around Gabe.

 

Against his better wished, Sam turned around, preparing to leave. 

 

“Are-Are you and your brother staying in town?” Gabriel's voice turned him around again, a fleeting look of hope more than Sam could have imagined passing across the man's face.

 

“We're leaving tomorrow.” Gabriel's face fell. 

 

“Where are you headed?” 

 

“Some nowhere town. Dean's the driver.”

 

“So you two just drive around...”

 

“We're salesmen. We just kinda...sell stuff.”

 

“Good luck then.”

 

“Yeah, you too. How long is the show sticking around here?”

 

“We've got the venue for a few more shows. But my manager is really putting the pressure on to get a move on.”

 

“What's holding you here?”

 

“Nothing much. I just...” Gabriel sighed. “Something happened here, a while ago. I lost someone I cared a lot about, and I just haven't been able to leave yet. But, like I said, I'm not gonna be able to stay for much longer.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“Nah, it's okay.”

 

They were silent for a moment. Sam remembered Dean outside, and remembered the state to the stage. They both had stuff to attend to. Sam didn't want to hold Gabriel up. It must take a long time cleaning up after a show, and it wasn't like Gabe had many people to help him.  
  
"I've got to go, my brother's waiting outside. He says hi, by the way."  
  
Gabriel chuckled.  
  
"I bet that's not all he said."  
  
Sam laughed with him. He turned again to leave, but Gabriel stopped him with a hand on his elbow. When he met his eyes, Sam could see the ghost of desperation in them, like Gabe wanted something that he couldn't ask for. He opened him mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Sam watched him, wishing that there was some way to answer that unasked question. And he found that there was.  
  
Bending down, he brushed his lips lightly over the magician's. With half closed eyes he drew back slightly, waiting for Gabriel's reaction. The man could reel back, could hit him, could yell and scream, could laugh at him; Sam didn't care. The faint impression of Gabriel's lips still tingled across his. And it felt so right there that Sam couldn't feel guilty about kissing him. Even as he revealed in the sensation though, his mind was continually moving, wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips so hard his own bruised, what the man's mouth would taste like, what it would feel like to have the smaller body pulled flush against his own. The thoughts chased each other behind Sam's eyelids.  
  
Gabriel wasn't breathing. For what seemed like minutes, Sam could hear nothing except for the blood pounding in his ears as adrenaline caught up to his thoughts.  
  
Then Gabriel sighed and, before Sam could open his eyes, was moving his lips against Sam's.  
  
Gabriel's kiss was nothing like Sam's. His hand wound its way into Sam's hair and tugged gently, so that Sam was forced into a better position. Sam felt Gabriel's breath against his lips, remembered that he had yet to take one himself, but gasped when Gabriel bit lightly on his bottom lip. Sam forgot to breath as Gabe's mouth was on his again, taking advantage of Sam's open mouth to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into Sam's mouth.  
  
Sam made a noise as Gabriel's lips pulled away from his, but was then grateful when air rushed back into his spent lungs. The man tasted like sugar, sweet without being cloying, and electricity and salt.  
  
His breathing heavy, Sam straightened back up, feeling his head spin from temporary lack of oxygen. He smiled down at Gabriel, who smiled back.  
  
"So...ah...can I...?"  
  
"Can you what Sammy? Use your words."  
  
"Can I have your number?" It seemed like such a mundane, pedestrian thing to ask after that kiss, but Gabriel shrugged and nodded.  
  
"I don't see why not. Give me your phone." Sam handed it over, and watched as Gabriel's dexterous fingers flew over the keys. He took it back when the man was finished, checking over the contacts to find the new one.  
  
"Goodbye Sam."  
  
Sam stared at the phone with confusion. He didn't recognise most of his contacts. Ash was there, but other then that, none of the names on the screen meant anything to him.  
  
 _Bert Aframian_

_Dr. James Hetfield_

_Nigel Tufnel_

_Phil Jones_  
  
Sam groaned. Dean must have gotten a hold of his phone and changed all of the contacts. Sam would have to change them all back. Sam scanned the list for Gabriel's thinking that it had to be one of the correct ones. But it wasn't there.  
  
"Wait, Gabriel-" Sam looked up to see that the hall was completely empty. He was gone.  
  
*

 

Sam braced himself for the cold and then stepped outside. His breath came out white in the cool air, and Sam could practically see the water condensing straight out of the air. It had been raining, and the road was wet, leaving it to glisten like snail trails following the car's tyres. The town seemed a little more alive, but that may have just been the adrenaline slowly eking out of Sam's bones, lending his eye sight extra sharpness.

 

He glanced around, trying to make out the figures in the darkness. The car was parked back at the hotel, if Dean had decided that Sam was taking to long and headed back out by himself, Sam would have no difficulty finding the way. He wasn't hungry anyway. 

 

Sam began walking, not really giving much thought to the direction, figuring that it wouldn't be easy to get lost in a town that chained directories to their bus stops. A few people were out on the street, faces hidden in the darkness. 

 

Sam recognised Dean instantly. They spent so much time together that it was impossible to mistake his form, even in the darkness. Dean was standing under a street lamp, talking to another figure. As Sam got closer, he recognised the man standing with him. 

 

“Castiel.” 

 

They both turned. Castiel was no longer wearing the assistant’s get up, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a threadbare T-shirt. His arms were crossed against his thin chest in the cold. Sam almost shrugged off his jacket to help the shivering man, but as soon as Dean realised what he was doing, he beat him too it. Castiel shivered slightly as the warmed fabric fell around his shoulders. Dean and Castiel were looking at each other again. Sam wondered what conversation he had just walked in on. 

 

“I really loved the show.”

 

Dean snorted. “That makes one of us. It was really unfair of Gabriel to do that to you, Cas.”

 

“It was my own fault. I asked he to let me be part of the show. I just did not have such a leading role in mind.”

 

“I thought you, ah...looked great.”

 

“Thank you Sam. The outfit was quite unbearable.”

 

They stood in silence. Sam looked down at his feet, feeling that he was intruding, but not knowing what to do. When he looked up, Dean and Cas  were still looking at each other, eyes fixed. Neither were speaking, but Sam wondered if Dean was seeing fireworks.

 

“We were going to get something to eat.” Sam said. “Did you want to join us?” After a moment Castiel shook his head, turning his gaze reluctantly to Sam. 

 

“No, thank you. I should get back to help Gabriel clean up.”

 

The silence was back, and no one moved. 

 

“Okay then, I'm just gonna...I'll be over here”  Sam took a few steps away, leaving the two figures in the harsh light. When he turned back, Castiel had begun to shrug off the jacket, never taking his eyes off Dean's face. Dean wordlessly caught his wrist, and Castiel acquiesced, stopping the motion and pulling the jumper tighter. Before leaving, Castiel places his hand on Dean's forearm, resting it lightly there for a second and then walked away. It had been an affectionate gesture, but Sam doubted his brother had recognised it as one. 

 

Sam smiled. Castiel had it bad. 

 

Dean was probably completely oblivious. 

 

*

 

Dean caught up to him in the darkness, neither of them saying anything. They continued to walk in that manner until Dean broke the silence. 

 

“What did you are Gabriel talk about?”

 

“Not much.” Dean gave him a disbelieving look. 

 

“What?”

 

“You were in there for like thirty minutes and you didn't talk about much?”

 

“I had to wait. We talked about the magic show. What else would we have talked about?”

 

Dean didn't say anything, but when Sam looked across at him, he was smirking. Sam grabbed his arm, spinning him around. 

 

“What?” Dean demanded, tugging his arm out of Sam's grip.

 

“Well, what were you and Castiel talking about?”

 

“He just wanted to make sure that we enjoyed the performance. And that I wasn't going to follow Gabriel home afterwards to rearrange his face.” Sam studied his brother's face carefully.

 

“What?” Dean repeated.

 

“What is going on here Dean?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“All day, you've been acting weird, and then all this stuff keeps happening that I just can't explain. It doesn't make any sense.”

 

“This is exactly how I act everyday.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

Dean shrugged. 

 

“Well it's not how I act everyday Dean.”

 

“What are you talking about? _You're_ not making any sense.”

 

Sam sighed. All of the small things, the minute changes, they added up to nothing. Perhaps there was nothing going. He searched through his memory. Looked for some concrete evidence that today hadn't been just a normal day. But all of it, the way that Dean was acting, the feeling thudding through his heart and head at the thought of Gabriel, it didn't prove anything. This _was_ everyday. This was life. 

 

Sam couldn't hide from it any more. He didn't want to hide from it. He had given himself up to a world full of awkward moments and half truths. He desperately wanted something of who he really was to exist in that world.

 

“Dean...I-”

 

“Sam, let's not.”

 

“Not what?”

 

“Share a moment. Don't turn this into a chick flick man.”

 

“It's just that I-”

 

“Look, if this is the part where you say 'I like dudes', skip it. I'm starving.”

 

Dean started walking again. Sam didn't move. After a few steps, Dean turned back, as if he had just remembered something. 

 

“I'm good with the gay thing, really. But  that Gabriel guy? He's so...” Dean sighed. “You know what, it's up to you man.”

 

He began walking again, and slowly Sam followed.  

 

That was surprisingly easier that he had expected it to be. The exact _opposite_ of what Sam had been expecting. No shouting. No denial. Perhaps _that_ was the real proof that today was different. Or maybe he just underestimated his brother. Breaking into a short jog, Sam caught up to Dean. After a few moments of oddly comfortable silence, Sam decided to push his luck.

 

“You know, I think that Castiel guy had a crush on you.”

 

“What? No. Nah, man, he was just being nice.”

 

Sam smiled.

 

“He's got it bad.”

 

“Nah, he just...do you really think so?”

 

Sam's smile grew as Dean actually blushed.

 

“Everything ready for tomorrow?” Sam asked.

 

“Yeah, but what made you think-”

 

“Gotta make sure we don't leave anything behind.”

 

“Sure, and-”

 

“And we've got to be out by ten, right?

 

“Yep, so-”

 

“So Castiel huh? I dunno, I just didn't think that he'd be your type.”

 

“What-”

 

“But hey, man, I'm good with the whole gay thing.”

 


	2. Gabriel

The stage was a mess. Gabriel briefly chastised himself for letting the show get so out of hand.  
  
But he couldn't stay mad at himself for long. 

 

He was just too damn cute.  
  
Stooping, Gabe picked up a renegade playing card, half concealed under some other prop. Gabriel would return it home to it's other little friends later. For now, it could sit in his pocket while he forgot about it.  
  
For all his protesting and complaining, Gabriel actually enjoyed cleaning up after a show. The great part about working with such a small team was that Gabriel got to be hands on with just about every aspect of the performance. Even picking up after himself. It was almost cathartic, definitely relaxing, and sure he might smash something against a wall every now and again, but there was something that just felt right about picking up the pieces.  
  
Gabriel liked tearing things apart. You might call it an occupational hazard. But he liked putting things back together even more. He'd never believed that sometimes things are just too broken to fix. Nothing's ever _that_ broken.  
  
Gabriel knew that, one day, he would be able to put his life back together. If only he could get all the pieces back, they would fall into place, or he would force them to, whichever way worked. But the pieces remained just out of his reach, coming in close and then darting away as soon as he extended his hands. They slipped through his fingers like smoke. 

 

Not pieces.

 

_Piece_.

 

A Sam shaped piece.

 

Gabriel folded a table back into it's box. 

 

Sam and Dean.

 

Gabriel could never shake the nervous feeling he got before the show. It didn't matter that, every single time, Sam would show up, like clockwork. He was always afraid that  this would be the time that he didn't. 

 

But every day, for over a year now, Sam would be sitting there, in the audience. Dean next to him. 

 

Despite the retrograde amnesia, Sam would always find his way to Gabriel. 

 

Even though they followed a type of routine, no two days were the same. Sometimes, Sam would catch on too quickly, and Gabe and Dean would have to try to explain things to him. Sometimes he would leave the show half way through, disappearing back to the hotel room that Dean had basically rented permanently. 

 

Most days, Gabriel would invite Sam up to the stage. Sam would look into his eyes and Gabriel knew, he knew, that there was something beyond them that recognised him. 

 

Every time Sam climbed up onto the stage, Gabriel was stabbed with white hot knives of guilt. Sam's accident had been his fault. An accident on stage, when Gabriel had been testing out some new tricks. No body really knew what happened. But Gabriel knew that it was his fault. And if it wasn't directly his fault, he was still to blame for allowing Sam to be there. If it hadn't been for him, Sam wouldn't even be in the state.

 

Gabriel had met Sam while he'd been working as a janitor in the town's high-school. He may have been having a overly dramatic reaction to Lucy telling him that he had no real skill and didn't actually offer the company anything new. Instead of taking her words as constructive criticism, Gabriel told her exactly where she could put her suggestions and had left. He hadn't gotten far, and after only a month, he and his manager had been able to reconcile their differences without Gabriel begging on hand and knees. Always a plus in his mind. 

 

But the bad hours and the stupid jumpsuit that they had made him wear while working at the school had all been worth it. He met Sam. 

 

Sam and his brother had been in town, delivering some new tech that the school had ordered. They pulled up in an old car, way after closing, and asked to be let in. Well, Sam asked, Dean demanded. 

 

By the end of the night, Gabe had a new phone number in his contact book, the only one he hoped to ever need again. 

 

Gabe and Dean had gotten on well initially. But they couldn't resist getting on each other's nerves for too long. 

 

When business had taken Dean out of town, Sam hadn't gone with him. He'd stayed. Whatever part of love that hadn't been formed during that first meeting, or the few that followed it, didn't waste time in showing up. They moved in together. Sam loved the shows, even volunteered to take part in them once in a while. Gabriel introduced Sam to the only part of his family that he could actually stand. Castiel. 

 

Gabriel loved Sam fiercely. 

 

And then then: accident.

 

When Sam recovered enough to leave the hospital, Gabe had taken him home. 

 

He remembered the first time he woke to Sam shouting. Gabriel had been sleeping on the couch, still hoping that Sam would wake up with something, anything, of the last year present and accounted for. 

 

Instead he was met by fear and confusion. He couldn't manage to calm Sam down, he just kept asking for Dean. For his brother. 

 

It took Dean a few agonisingly slow days to get to town. 

 

And they had settled into their routine not long after that. 

 

Then Dean met Castiel. And Gabriel didn't have to worry about Dean leaving with Sam any more. 

 

Gabriel wasn't kidding about having to leave town. Lucy was pressing a move on them, saying that they'd drained the town dry. 

 

It had been a year since the accident. 

 

A year's worth of shows. 

 

The audience decreasing in size every time. 

 

But Dean would follow them to the end of the earth. He'd even put up with Gabriel, for Sam and Castiel's sake. And Gabriel didn't made it easy for him.  

 

The stage was almost clear. It was quick, mind numbing work, that left Gabe to his thoughts. 

 

Gabe didn't want to move. He was still clinging to the hope that something in this town would jog Sammy's memory and break the cycle. That Sam's memories were still in there somewhere, waiting to be unlocked. Gabriel didn't want to believe that the best year of his life was lost forever. 

 

It wasn't a pointless hope. Gabriel _could_ put it together again. 

 

Gabriel's thoughts turned towards tonight's show. To the kiss. It was things like that, remnants of _his_ Sam, that kept him from giving up. 

 

Gabriel would keep trying, but every time he stood there beside Sam, every time he watched Sam's thoughtful expression when he asks if they've ever met before, Gabriel would feel the pain of it anew.

 

And Gabriel just grew more and more tired of hearing Sam say no. 


End file.
